


I'm Just A Man, I'm Not A Hero [JohnLock AU]

by consulting_ravenclaw



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Afghanistan, Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Dr Watson - Freeform, Drugs, John Hamish Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mofftiss, SOLDIER - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, War, William Sherlock Scott Holmes - Freeform, army doctor, johnlock au, martin freeman - Freeform, mystrade, sherlock bbc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:13:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consulting_ravenclaw/pseuds/consulting_ravenclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One little mistake... lead to another... and another... And then lead to the biggest journey of their lives.</p><p>Sherlock and John are both at military camp, two very different people with different reasons for being there. But they have one thing in common: a secretive past that the other man wants to unlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Just A Man, I'm Not A Hero [JohnLock AU]

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there guys! I have a good feeling about this fic.
> 
> If any of you are on Wattpad and prefer to read it there, it's got the same title, but my username on there is @shrrlocked.
> 
> I couldn't help myself with the title... If anyone gets the quote, leave a comment and I'll mention you when I put the next chapter up.
> 
> As always, feedback and kudos are muchly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy this fanfiction!
> 
> \- consulting_ravenclaw x

To a stranger passing the exquisite Holmes manor in the early evening of this warm April night, they will hear what would appear to be a relatively ordinary conversation between two brothers. Anyone who is unfortunate enough to be closely acquainted with this particular family (a list which can be written on a single side of lined A6 paper) would have heard it as it truly was: a heated argument.

"Sherlock there's no point fighting this, you are going and that's that." Mycroft Holmes is getting tired of the futile resistance of his ignorant little brother.

The younger Holmes' reply floats back from the other side of the spacious living room, where he's lying face up on the leather sofa, hands in their usual steeple position beneath his chin. "But even Mother thinks you're being harsh. Anyway I didn't do anything wrong."

"Brother mine-" Mycroft begins, before he is rudely interrupted.

"Don't 'brother mine' me! I was feeling depressed, so I made one mistake, and now they're shipping me off to Afghanistan and you won't fucking intervene."

"Mind. Your. Language. Or I'll tell Mother, and she'll be even less pleased with you. Anyways, if I manage to persuade them to change their minds, you won't learn your lesson. You'll think you can get away with anything because I have a certain... influence... in the government. To be honest, I'm glad you're going away. Goodnight. See you in two years." 

He makes for the door, but Sherlock will not let him have the last word.

"Enjoy your date tonight, brother mine." Sherlock says this with a hint of sarcasm, but it is lost on Mycroft, as he is just stood, mouth gawping, striving to figure out how his brother knows. He took extra precautions to hide any and all abnormal details, so he could be saved from the punishment sent from above that was the childish taunting bound to be fired at him by Sherlock.

Without thinking, he says "Wha- how do you know-" 

"You habitually head upstairs around nine o'clock and are asleep in less than half an hour. It's approximately ten o'clock at this moment, meaning that you are almost definitely doing something tonight. It wouldn't be paperwork; you'd hardly get changed out of the t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms you were in at tea just to sit in your office. You are not up because it's my last night here for a while, you would've come down in your pyjamas for me, and a lot earlier too. Not to mention you don't bother with that sentiment crap

"So, why are you still in a suit? You must be leaving the house tonight, and hardly for a government meeting; they all occur before six pm. Furthermore, you have just shaved and brushed your teeth, and are wearing a new, and rather pungent, deodorant, obviously a gift from someone, or something to impress them, as this is an odour you aren't exceptionally fond of. Last of all, you're phone is in your front trouser pocket rather than the back one. You want to be able to get it out as fast as you can should you receive a call or a text."

Mycroft inhales deeply, and exhales again, before shaking his head in defeat and walking slowly out of the door, and gets his coat, ready for his date.

Sherlock, with a smug smile on his face at having foiled his brother, calls one last thing with a chuckle. "Say goodbye to Lestrade for me!"

He decides to spend his last night of quiet thinking to go over every open case Lestrade had him working on up til a few days ago. 

Less than five minutes later, he is so deep in thought that he doesn't notice the figure stood in the doorway, looking over at him in a fond yet saddened manner, until she speaks.

"He is distraught over you leaving you know. He may not show it, but then again, sentiment is one thing you boys don't like isn't it."

Sherlock sighs and swings his legs off the sofa, his bare feet colliding with the warm rug covering the polished floorboards. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning Mother." 

She grabs him by the arm as he attempts to exit through the west door of the room, knowing too well that she will not get a chance to speak to him on his own tomorrow, what with his father lecturing him on everything and anything. 

"I'm going to miss you Sherly." A tear slides down her cheek. "We're all going to miss you. Oh god Sherlock, why did you have to do it? What if you get hurt? What if you don't return?" 

With a regretful smile on his face, Sherlock moves forward and gingerly wraps his arms around the small build of his mother, and whispers "I'll be alright" before burying his face in her shoulder and releasing all the emotion he was storing up. All the anger at himself, and Mycroft. All the misery of being sent off and having to leave everything behind. All the disgrace he felt when he saw the disappointment in Mrs Holmes' eyes. Everything. 

It's the first time he has cried in over twenty years, but by no means will it be the last.  
*****  
As soon as Sherlock wakes the following morning, his mother is fussing around him, making sure he has everything. After three hours, four lectures from his father and a further one from Mycroft, and endless mothering from his, well, mother, they are finally in the car on their way to the station.

About an hour into the journey, on which Sherlock was already bored, he received a text.

Just wanted to wish you luck, Mycroft doesn't actually want you to go (although he'll kill me for putting that) and I know you know about us. See you soon – Greg

"Who the hell is Greg?" he mutters to himself, and almost as if this 'Greg' character had read his mind, another text came through.

By the way it's Lestrade, my first name is Greg, if you can be bothered to remember it.

Sherlock mutters under his breath, something that sounds a bit like "typical", but he stores the name in his mind palace, along with other important stuff like what day of the week it is. 

Finally he can settle down and enjoy his final hours of peace before the organised chaos of military training.


End file.
